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A Pocketful, of r . 




Edited by 

Illustrated by Henrietta Jones 

Thomas Y. Crowell Company 
New York 

Copyright, 1946, by Thomas Y. Crowell Company 
All rights reserved 


- J f ^ , Acknowledgments 

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM, "Swing Song," "The Fairies," ffoai Robin 
Redbreast and Other Verses; by permission of The Macmillan 
Company, publishers. HILAIRE BELLOC, "The Yak," from Cau 
tionary Verses; copyright 1931 by Hilaire Belloc, reprinted by per 
mission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. ROSEMARY AND STEPHEN VINCENT 
BENET, "Peregrine White and Virginia Dare," "Christopher Co 
lumbus," from A EooJ^ of Americans by Rosemary and Stephen 
Vincent Benet; copyright 1933 by Rosemary and Stephen Vin 
cent Benet, published by Farrar & Rinehart, Inc. LEWIS CAR 
ROLL, "The Walrus and the Carpenter," "The White Knight's 
Ballad," "The Mad Gardener's Song," from Collected Verse; by 
permission of The Macmillan Company, publishers. CHARLES E. 
CARRYL, "Robinson Crusoe's Story," "The Plaint of the Camel," 
from Davy and the Goblin; Houghton Mifflin Company. ELIZA 
BETH COATSWORTH, "Counters," from Compass Rose; copyright 
1929 by Coward-McCann, Inc. "The Fields Are Spread Like 
Tablecloths," from The Fair American, "Down the Rain Falls," 
from five Bushel Farm; by permission of The Macmillan Com 
pany, publishers. HILDA CONKLLING, "Butterfly," "Little Snail," 
"Dandelion," from Poems by a Little Girl; copyright, 1920, by 
]. B. Lippincott Company. 

WALTER DE LA MARE, "Alas Alack," "Miss T," "The Cupboard," 
"The Buckle," "Tartary," "Bunches of Grapes," from Collected 
Poems; Henry Holt and Company, Inc. EMILY DICKINSON, "A 
Bird Came Down the Walk," from The Poems of Emily Dickinson, 
edited by Martha Dickinson Bianchi and Alfred Leete Hampson; 
reprinted by permission of Little, Brown & Company* ELEANOR 
FARJEON, "Coach," "Sailor," from Cherrystones; Ann Watkins,Inc. 
"The Old Man's Toes," "For a Cock," from Joan's Door; copy 
right, 1926, by J. B. Lippincott Company. "Heigh-Ho, April!" 
"White Horses," from Over the Garden Wall; (Lippincott), copy 
right, 1933, by Eleanor Farjeon. "The Night Will Never Stay," 
from Gypsy and Ginger; published and copyrighted by E. P. Dut- 
ton & Co., Inc. EUGENE FIELD, "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod"; 
Charles Scribner's Sons. RACHEL FIELD, "Taxis," from Taxis and 
Toadstools; copyright 1926 by Doubleday, Doran & Co., Inc., "The 
Piper," "Gypsies," from Pointed^ People; by permission of The 
Macmillan Company, publishers. ROBERT FROST, "The Pasture," 
from Collected Poems; Henry Holt and Company, Inc. ROSE 
FYLEMAN, "A Fairy Tailor," from The Fairy Flute; copyright 1923 
by Doubleday, Doran & Company, Inc. ., , k > 

- N 

" KENNETH 'dRAHAME, "The Duck's Ditty"; Charles Scribner's 
Sons*.* *OL|VER HERFORD, "The Elf and the Dormouse" from Artful 
Antkf^h. Appleton-Century Company, Inc. LANGSTON HUGHES, 
"April" Rain Song," from The Dream Keeper; copyright 1932 by 
Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., reprinted by permission. VACHEL LINDSAY, 
"The Mysterious Cat," "An Explanation of the Grasshopper," "The 
Moon's the North Wind's Cooky," from Johnny Appleseed and 
Other Poems; by permission of The Macmillan Company, publish 
ers. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, "Hiawatha's Childhood," 
from The Song of Hiawatha; Houghton MMin Company. MIL 
DRED PLEWMERRYMAN, "Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee," from Child 
Life; Estate of Mildred Plew Meigs. EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY, 
"Wonder Where This Horseshoe Went," from Poems Selected for 
Young People; copyright 1923, 1929, by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 
published by Harper & Brothers. 

MOIRA O'NEILL, "Grace for Light," from Collected Poems; Wm. 
Blackwood & Sons Ltd. SEUMAS O'SULLIVAN, "A Piper,"; the au 
thor. LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE, "A Christmas Folk-Song," from 
A Wayside Lute; Thomas B. Mosher. LAURA E. RICHARDS, "The 
Little Cossack," "Mrs. Snipkin and Mrs. Wobblechin," "A Legend 
of Lake Okeefinokee," from Tirra Una; reprinted by permission 
of Little, Brown & Company. "In Samarcand/' from Merry-Go 
Round; D. Appleton-Century Company, Inc. "Antonio," from 
Child Life; Estate of Laura E. Richards. ELIZABETH MADOX ROB 
ERTS, "The Hens," "Firefly," "Little Ram," "Christmas Morning," 
from Under the Tree; copyright 1922 by B. W. Huebsch, reprinted 
by permission of The Viking Press, New York. "Cinderella's 
Song," from Song in the Meadow; copyright 1940 by Elizabeth 
Madox Roberts, reprinted by permission of The Viking Press, New 
York. CHRISTINA ROSSETTI, "The Horses of the Sea," "Mix a Pan 
cake," "Ferry Me Across the Water," "Boats Sail on the Rivers," 
"Who Has Seen the Wind?" from Poetical Worlds; by permission 
of The Macmillan Company, publishers. 

CARL SANDBURG, "Fog," from Chicago Poems; Henry Holt and 
Company, Inc. FRANCES CLARKE SAYERS, "Who Calls?"; the au 
thor. EDITH SITWELL, "The King of China's Daughter"; Ann 
Watkins, Inc. JAMES STEPHENS, "The Rivals," "Check," from Col 
lected Poems; by permission of The Macmillan Company, pub 
lishers. SARA TEASDALE, "The Falling Star," from Stars Tonight; 
by permission of The Macmillan Company, publishers. FRANCIS 
THOMPSON, "Ex Ore Infantium" from Selected Poems; reprinted 
by permission of Dodd, Mead & Company, Inc. J. R, R. TOLKIEN, 
"Sing All Ye Joyful," from The^ Hobblt; Houghton Miffiin Co. 


The Elves' Dance, Unknown i 

Mix a Pancake, Christina Rossetti 2 

Alas, Alack, Walter De la Mare 2 

A Swing Song, William Allingbam 3 

The Old Man's Toes, Eleanor Farjeon 5 

Antonio, Laura E. Richards 8 

Taxis, Rachel Field o 

Ferry Me Across the Water, Christina Rossetti i o 

Miss T, Walter De la Mare 1 1 

The Cupboard, Walter De la Mare 1 2 
An Explanation of the Grasshopper, Vachel Lindsay 13 

The Fairy Queen, Unknown 14 

The Fairies, William Allingham 1 6 

The Fairy Tailor, Rose Fyleman 19 

The Elf and the Dormouse, Oliver Herford z i 

Over Hill, Over Dale, William Shakespeare 23 

Where the Bee Sucks, William Shakespeare 24 

Piping down the Valleys Wild, William Blake 25 

The Piper, Rachel Field 26 


The Echoing Green, William Blake 27 

Heigh-Ho, April ! , Eleanor Farjeon 2 5 

Who Calls?, Frances Clarke Sayers 30 

Laughing Song, William Blake 3 1 

Here We Come a-Piping, Unknown 32 

A Piper, Seumas 0* Sullivan 32 

The Rivals, James Stephens 33 

Gypsies, Rachel Field 34 

Sing All Ye Joyful, /. R. R. Tolkien 35 

A Boy's Song, James Hogg 36 

The Pasture, Robert Frost 37 

Over in the. Meadow, Old rhyme 38 

Boats Sail on the Rivers, Christina Rossetti 40 

Dandelion, Hilda Conkling 41 

The Fields Are Spread, Elizabeth Coatsworth 42 

The Falling Star, Sara Teasdale 43 
The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky, Vachd Lindsay 44 

Escape at Bedtime, Robert Louis Stevenson 45 

Fog, Carl Sandburg 46 

Who Has Seen the Wind?, Christina Rossetti 46 

April Rain Song, Langston Hughes 47 

Down the Rain Falls, Elizabeth Coatsworth 47 

Little Rain, Elizabeth Madox Roberts 48 

The Night Will Never Stay, Eleanor Farjeon 49 

Check, fames Stephens 50 

Windy Nights, Robert Louis Stevenson 5 1 

White Horses, Eleanor Farjeon 5 2 

The Buckle, Walter De la Mare 53 


Cinderella's Song, Elizabeth Madox Roberts " 54 

Coach, Eleanor Farjeon CA 

The Nut Tree, Old rhyme 56 

The King of China's Daughter, Edith Sitwell 57 

Tartary, Walter De la Mare eg 

I Saw a Ship a-Sailing, Old rhyme 60 

Sailor, Elean or Farjeon 61 

Counters, Elizabeth Coatsworth 62 

Bunches of Grapes, Walter De la Mare 63 
Peregrine White and Virginia Dare, 

Rosemary and Stephen Vincent Benet 64 
Christopher Columbus, 

Rosemary and Stephen Vincent Benet 66 
Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee, Mildred Plew Menyman 68 

Robinson Crusoe's Story, Charles Edward Carry! 7 i 

The Little Cossack, Laura E. Richards 74 

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat, Edward Lear 76 

The Duck and the Kangaroo, Edward Lear 78 
Mrs. Snipkin and Mrs. Wobblechin, Laura E. Richards 80 

The Walrus and the Carpenter, Lewis Carroll 8 1 

In Samarcand, Laura E. Richards 86 

The White Knight's Ballad, Lewis Carroll 88 

The Mad Gardener's Song, Lewis Carroll 0,2 

The Quangle Wangle's Hat, Edward Lear 94 

A Legend of Lake Okeefinokee, Laura E. Richards 97 

The Plaint of the Camel, Charles Edward Carryl i oo 

The Yak, Hilaire Belloc 102 

The Mysterious Cat, Vach el Lindsay 103 


Ducks' Ditty, Kenneth Grahams 1 04 

The Hens, Elizabeth Madox Roberts 105 

For a Cock, Eleanor Farjeon 1 06 

A Bird Came down the Walk, Emily Dickinson 107 

Firefly, Elizabeth Madox Roberts 108 
Hiawatha's Childhood, He nry Wadsworth Longfellow 109 
The Snail, William Cowper, 

translated from Vincent Bourne 1 1 o 

Little Snail, Hilda Conkling 1 1 1 

A Dream, William Blake 1 1 2 

Butterfly, Hilda Conkling 1 1 3 

The Horses of the Sea, Christina Rossetti 1 1 3 

Wonder Where, Edna St. Vincent Millay 114 

Pretty Cow, Jane Taylor 1 1 5 

The Shepherd, William Blake 1 1 6 

The Lamb, William Blake 1 17 

Christmas Morning, Elizabeth Madox Roberts 1 18 
A Christmas Folk-Song, Lizzette Woodworth Reese 120 

A Visit from St. Nicholas, Clement C. Moore 121 

Ex Ore Infantium, Francis Thompson 1 24 

Grace for Light, Moira O'Neill 126 

Lullaby, Alfred Tennyson 127 

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, Eugene Field 1 2 8 

Lullaby of an Infant Chief, Sir Walter Scott 130 

Index of Authors 1 3 1 

Index of Tides 1 3 1 
Index of First Lines 


Round about, round about 

In a fair ring-a, 
Thus we dance, thus we dance 

And thus we sing-a, 
Trip and go, to and fro 

Over this green-a, 
All about, in and out, 

For our brave Queen-a. 



Mix a pancake, 
Stir a pancake, 

Pop it in the pan; 
Fry the pancake, 
Toss the pancake, 

Catch it if you can. 

Christina Rossetti 


Ann, Ann! 

Come! quick as you can! 
There's a fish that talks 

In the frying-pan. 
Out of the fat. 

As clear as glass, 
He put up his mouth 

And moaned "Alas!" 
Oh, most mournful, 

"Alas, alack! 11 
Then turned to his sizzling, 

And sank him back. 

Dt U Mare 


Swing, swing, 
Sing, sing, 

Here's my throne, and I am a king* 
c . &* 

owing, sing, 

Swing, sing, 
Farewell, Earth, for I'm on the wing! 

Low, high, 

Here I fly, 
Like a bird through sunny sky; 

Free, free, 

Over the lea, 
Over the mountain, over the sea! 

Up, down, 

Up and down, 
Which is the way to London Town? 

Where, where? 

Up in the air, 
Close your eyes, and now you are there! 

Soon, soon, 

Over the sunset, over the moon; 

Far, far, 

Over all bar, 
Sweeping on from star to star! 


No, no, 
Low, low, 

Sweeping daisies with my toe. 
Slow, slow, 
To and fro, 




William Allingharn 


Up the street, 
Down the street, 


(Mind you don't tread 

upon the 


She hops along the 

Into every Square, 
But she mustn't touch 
the Cracks in 


The Squares on the pavement 
Are safe 

as can 


One is the Sands 
By the side 

of the 



One is a Garden where 



One is a Meadow 

and I 


But the Cracks are dangerous, 



The Cracks in the Pavement are the 


Any one who treads on the 




Will wish in a jiffy he had 


For the Sea will roll up and 



And a horrid blight will turn your 


And into the Meadow with an 


A Big Cross Cow will come 



Up the street and down the street 



Here she makes a Pudding, 
There she smells a Rose, 
Yonder she goes stooping where the 


(Mind, Joan! don't tread upon the 



Eleanor Farjeon 



Antonio, Antonio, 

Was tired of living alonio. 

He thought he would woo 

Miss Lissamy Lu, 
Miss Lissamy Lucy Molonio. 

Antonio, Antonio, 

Rode off on his polo-ponio. 

He found the fair maid 

In a bowery shade, 
A-sitting and knitting alonio. 

Antonio, Antonio, 

Said, "If you will be my ownio, 

I'll love you true, 

And I'll buy for you, 
An Jcery creamery conio!" 

"Oh, nonio, Antonio! 
You're far too bleak and bonio! 

And all that I wish, 

You singular fish, 
Is that you will quickly begomo." 

Antonio, Antonio, 

He uttered a dismal moanio; 

Then ran off and hid 

(Or I'm told that he did) 
In the Anticatarctical Zonio. 

Laura E. Richards 


Ho, for taxis green or blue, 

Hi, for taxis red, 
They roll along the Avenue 

Like spools of colored thread! 

Jack-o' -Lantern yellow, 

Orange as the moon, 

Greener than the greenest grass 

Ever grew in June. 

Gayly striped or checked in squares. 

Wheels that twinkle bright, 

Don't you think that taxis make 

A very pleasant sight? 

Taxis shiny in the rain, 

Scudding through the snow y 

Taxis flashing back the sun 

Waiting in a row. 

Ho, for taxis red and green, 

Hi, for taxis blue, 
I wouldn't be a private car 

In sober black, would you?, . 

Rachel Field 



Terry me across the water, 

Do, boatman, do/ 
*I you've a penny in your purse 

I'll ferry you/ 

*I have a penny in my purse, 

And my eyes are blue; 
So ferry me across the water, 

Do, boatman, do.' 

"Step into my ferry-boat, 

Be they black or blue, 
And for the penny in your purse 

I'll ferry you.' 

Christina Rossetti 


It's a very odd thing 

As odd as can be 
That whatever Miss T. eats 

Turns into Miss T.; 
Porridge and apples, 

Mince, muffins and mutton, 
Jam, junket, jumbles 

Not a rap, not a button 
It matters; the moment 

They're out of her plate, 
Though shared by Miss Butcher 

And sour Mr. Bate; 
Tiny and cheerful, 

And neat as can be, 
Whatever Miss T. eats 

Turns into Miss T. 

Walter De Lt Marc 


I know a little cupboard, 
With a teeny tiny key, 
And there's a jar of Lollypops 
' For me, me, me. 

It has a little shelf, my dear, 
As dark as dark can be, 
And there's a dish of Banbury Cakes 
For me, me, me. 

I have a small fat grandmamma, 
W^th a very slippery knee, 
And she's Keeper of the Cupboard, 
With the key, key, key. 

And when I'm very good, my dear, 
As good as good can be, 
There's Banbury Cakes, and Lollypops 
For me, me, me. 

Walter De la Mare 


The Grasshopper, the grasshopper, 
I will explain to you: 
He is the Brownies' racehorse, 
The fairies' Kangaroo. 

Vachel Lindsay 


Come, follow, follow me, 
You Fairy Elves that be; 
Which circle on the greene, 
Come, follow Mab your Queene. 
Hand in hand, let's dance around, 
For this place is fairye ground. 

When mortals are at rest, 
And snoring in their nest, 
Unheard, and unespied, 
Through keyholes we do glide; 
Over tables, stools, and shelves, 
We trip it with our Fairy Elves. 


Upon a mushroome's head 

Our tablecloth we spread; 

A grain of rye or wheat 

Is manchet, which we eat; 
Pearly drops of dew we drink 
In acorn cups filled to the brink. 

The grasshopper, gnat, and fly 

Serve for our minstrelsie; 

Grace said, we dance a while, 

And so the time beguile: 
And if the moon doth hide her head. 
The gloe-worm lights us home to bed. 

On tops of dewie grasse 
So nimbly do we pass, 
The young and tender stalk 
Ne'er bends when we do walk: 
Yet m the morning may be seen 
Where we the night before have been. 




Up the airy mountain, 

Down the rushy glen, 
We daren't go a-hunting 

For fear of little men; 
Wee folk, good folk, 

Trooping all together; 
Green jacket, red cap, 

And white owl's feather! 

Down along the rocky shore 

Some make their home, 
They live on crispy pancakes 

Of yellow tide-foam; 
Some in the reeds 

Of the black mountain lakes, 
With frogs for their watch-dogs, 

All night awake. 


High on the hill-top 

The old King sits; 
He is now so old and gray, 

He's nigh lost his wits. 
With a bridge of white mist 

Columbkill he crosses 
On his stately journeys 

From Sheveleague to Rosses; 
Or going up with music 

On cold, starry nights, 
To sup with the Queen 

Of the gay Northern Lights. 

They stole little Bridget 

For seven years long; 
WTien she came down again 

Her friends were all gone. 
They took her lightly back, 

Between the night and morrow, 
They thought that she was fast asleep, 

But she was dead with sorrow. 
They have kept her ever since 

Deep within the lake, 
On a bed of flag leaves, 

\Vatchmg till she wake. 

By the craggy hill-side, 

Through the mosses bare, 
They have planted thorn-trees 

For pleasure here and there. 
Is any man so daring 

As dig them up in spite, 
He shall find their sharpest thorns 

In his bed at night. 

Up the airy mountain, 

Down the rushy glen, 
We daren't go a-hunting 

For fear o little men; 
Wee folk, good folk, 

Trooping all together; 
Green jacket, red cap, 

And white owl's feather! 

William Allingharn 



Sitting on the flower-bed beneath the hollyhocks 
I spied the tiny tailor who makes the fairies' frocks; 
There he sat a-stitchmg all the afternoon 
And sang a little ditty to a quaint wee tune: 
"Grey for the goblins, blue for the elves, 
Brown for the little gnomes that live by themselves, 
White for the pixies that dance upon the green, 
But where shall I find me a robe for the Queen?" 


AH about the garden his little men he sent, 
Up and down and in and out unceasingly they went; 
Here they stole a blossom, there they pulled a leaf, 
And bound them up with gossamer into a glowing sheaf. 
Petals of the pansy for little velvet shoon, 
Silk of the poppy for a dance beneath the moon, 
Lawn of the jessamine, damask of the rose, 
To make their pretty kirtles and airy furbelows. 

Never roving pirates back from Southern seas 
Brought a store of treasures home beautiful as these; 
They heaped them all about him in a sweet gay pile, 
But still he kept a-stitching and a-singing all the while: 
"Grey for the goblins, blue for the elves, 
Brown for the little gnomes that live by themselves, 
White for the pixies that dance on the green, 
But who shall make a royal gown to deck the Fairy 

Rose Fyleman 


Under a toadstool 

Crept a wee Elf, 
Out of the rain 

To shelter himself. 

Under the toadstool, 

Sound asleep, 
Sat a big Dormouse 

All in a heap. 

Trembling the wee Elf, 
Frightened, and yet 

Fearing to fly away 
Lest he got wet. 

To the next shelter 

Maybe a mile! 
Sudden the wee Elf 

Smiled a wee smile. 

Tugged rill the toadstool 

Toppled in two. 
Holding it over him, 

Gaily he flew. 

Soon he was safe home, 

Dry as could be. 
Soon woke the Dormouse- 

'Good gracious me! 

'Where is my toadstool?' 
Loud he lamented. 

And that's how umbrellas 
First were invented. 

Oliver Herford 


Over hill, over dale, 

Through bush, through brier, 
Over park, over pale, 

Through flood, through fire, 
I do wander every where, 
Swifter than the moon's sphere; 
And I serve the fairy queen, 
To dew her orbs upon the green: 
The cowslips tall her pensioners be; 
In their gold coats spots you see; 
Those be rubies, fairy favours, 
In those freckles live their savours: 
I must go seek some dewdrops hoe, 
And hang a pearl in evety cowslip's ear. 

William Shakes feare 


Where the bee sucks, there suck I: 

In a cowslip's bell I lie; 

There I couch when owls do cry. 

On the bat's back I do fly 

After summer memly: 

Merrily, merrily shall I live now 

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. 

William Shakespeare 



Piping down the valleys wild, 
Piping songs of pleasant glee, 
On a cloud I saw a child, 
And he laughing said to me: 

Tipe a song about a Lamb!' 
So I piped with merry cheer. 
Tiper, pipe that song again;' 
So I piped: he wept to hear. 

'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; 
Sing thy songs of happy cheer:' 
So I sang the same again, 
While he wept with joy to hear. 

Tiper, sit thee down and write 
In a book, that all may read. 1 
So he vanished from my sight, 
And I pluck'd a hollow reed, 

And I made a rural pen, 
And I stain J d the water clear, 
And I wrote my happy songs 
Every child may joy to hear, 



I had a willow whistle, 

I piped it on the hill 
The grass reached up, the sky bent down, 

And all the world grew still. 

Now up, now down the rounded holes, 

My fingers fluttered light, 
And little notes came trooping out 

As thick as elves by night. 

They turned themselves into a tune 
More clear than drops of dew, 

More sweet than almond trees, more soft 
Than clouds the moon slips through. 

Oh, good it was to be alone 

To pipe there on the hill, 
With bending sky, and reaching grass, 

And all the world grown still. 

Rachel Field 


The Sun docs arise, 

And make happy the skies; 

The merry bells ring 

To welcome the Spring; 

The skylark and thrush, 

The birds of the bush, 

Sing louder around 

To the bells' cheerful sound, 

While our sports shall be seen 

On the Echoing Green. 

Old John, with white hair, 
Does laugh away care, 
Sitting under the oak, 
Among the old folk. 
They laugh at our play, 
And soon they all say; 
'Such, such were the joys 
When we all, girls and boys, 
In our youth time were seen 
On the Echoing Green/ 

Till the little ones, weary, 
No mone can be merry; 
The sun does descend, 
And our sports have an end. 
Round the laps of their mothers 
Many sisters and brothers, 
Like birds in their nest, 
Are ready for rest, 
And sport no more seen 
On the darkening Green. 

William Blake 



Let the wind blow! 

Let the frost glitter, and let the rain flow! 

Primula's peeping, 

And scilla's done sleeping, 

And daffodil's keeping the border aglow. 

Buds on the lilac are starting to think, 

Buds on the apple are stippled with pink, 

Buds on the cherry are very near due, 

Buds on the pear-tree have almost come through. 

So heigh-ho! 

Let the rain fall, 

Let April shiver within a lace shawl! 

Wallflower is breaking, 

And tulip is waking 

And arabis shaking her snow on the walL 

Fan of the lupin is spread like a star, 

Blade of the iris stands up like a spar, 

Spear of the hyacinth shatters the shield 

That hardened the bosom of garden and field. 

Eleanor F&rjc&n 


"Listen, children, listen, won't you come into the night? 
The stars have set their candle gleim, the moon her 

lanthorn light. 
Fm piping little tunes for you to catch your dancing 

There's glory in the heavens, but there's magic in the 


There's jesting here and carnival: the cost of a balloon 
Is an ancient rhyme said backwards, and a wish upon 

the moon. 
The city walls and city streets! you shall make of 

As fair a thing as country roads and blossomy apple 

"What watchman calls us in the night, and plays a 

little tune 
That turns our tongues to talking now of April, May 

and June? 
Who bids us come with nimble feet and snapping 

finger rips?" 
4i l am the Spring, the Spring, the Spring with laughter 

on my lips." 

Frances Clarke Sayers 



When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, 
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; 
When the air does laugh with our meny wit, 
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it; 

When the meadows laugh with lively green, 

And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene, 

When Mary and Susan and Emily 

With their sweet round mouths sing "Ha, Ha, He!' 

When the painted birds laugh in the shade, 
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread, 
Come live, and be merry, and join with me, 
To sing the sweet chorus of *Ha, Ha, He!* 

William Blake 



Here we come a-piping, 

In Springtime and in May; 

Green fruit a-ripening, 

And Winter fled away. 

The Queen she sits upon the strand, 

Fair as lily, white as wand; 

Seven billows on the sea, 

Horses riding fast and free, 

And bells beyond the sand. 



A piper in the street to-day 

Set up, and tuned, and started to play, 

And away, away, away on the tide 

Of his music we started; on every side 

Door and windows were opened wide, 

And men left down their work and came, 

And women with petticoats coloured like flame. 

And little bare feet that were blue with cold, 

Went dancing back to the age of gold, 

And ail the world went gay, went gay, 

For half an hour in the street to-day. 

Settmas O' Sullivan 



I heard a bird at dawn 
Singing sweetly on a tree, 
That the dew was on the lawn, 
And the wind was on the lea; 
But I didn't listen to him, 
For he didn't sing to me! 

I didn't listen to him, 
For he didn't sing to me 
That the dew was on the lawn 
And the wind was on the lea! 
I was singing at the time, 
Just as prettily as he! 

I was singing all the time, 
Just as prettily as he, 
About the dew upon the lawn, 
And the wind upn the lea! 
So I didn't listen to him, 
As he sang upon a tree! 

James Stephens 



Last night the gypsies came 
Nobody knows from where. 
What they've gone to nobody knows, 
And nobody sterns to care! 

Between the trees on the old swamp road 
I saw them round their fire: 
Tattered children and dogs that barked 
As the flames leaped high and higher; 
Theft wtre black-eyed girls in scarlet shawls, 


Old folks wrinkled with years, 

Men with handkerchiefs round their throats 

And silver loops in their ears. 

Ragged and red like maple leaves 

When frost comes in the fall, 

The gypsies stayed but a single night; 

In the morning gone were all 

Never a shaggy gypsy dog, 

Never a gypsy child; 

Only a burnt-out gypsy fire 

Where danced that band so wild. 

All gone and away, 
Who knows where? 
Only the wind that sweeps 
Maple branches bare. 


Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together! 
The wind's in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather; 
The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower, 
And bright are the windows of Night in her tower. 

Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together! 
Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather! 
The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting; 
Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting. 

J.R.R. Tolkien 



Where the pools are bright and deep, 
Where the gray trout lies asleep, 
Up the river and over the lea 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the blackbird sings the latest, 
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, 
Where the nestlings chirp and flee 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the mowers mow the cleanest, 
Where the hay lies thick and greenest; 
There to trace the homeward bee 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the hazel bank is steepest, 
Where the shadow lies the deepest, 
Where the clustering nuts fall free 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Why the boys should drive away 
Little sweet maidens from the play, 
Or love to banter and fight so well, 
That's the thing I never could tell 


But this I know: I love to play, 
' Through the meadow, among the hay 

~~ < x\Up tne water and o'er the lea, 

^That's the way for Billy and me. 




Fm going out to clean the pasture spring; 
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away 
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may): 
I shan't be gone long. You come too. 

I'm going out to fetch the little calf 
That's standing by the mother. It's so young, 
It totters when she licks it with her tongue. 
I shan't be gone long. You come too. 

Robert Frost 



Over in the meadow, in the sand, in the sun, 
Lived an old mother turtle and her little turtle one. 
"Dig/* said the mother. "We dig/' said the one; 
So they dug all day in the sand in the sun. 

Over in the meadow, where the stream runs blue, 
Lived an old mother fish and her little fishes two. 
"Swim/* said the mother. "We swim/* said the two; 
So they swam all day where the stream runs blue. 

Over in the meadow, in a hole in a tree, 
Lived an old mother owl and her little owls three. 
"Tu-whoo/' said the mother. * Tu-whoo," said the three; 
So they tu-whooed all day in a hole in a tree. 

Over in the meadow, by the old barn door, 
lived an old mother rat and her little ratties four. 
"Gnaw," said the mother. "We gnaw/' said the four; 
So they gnawed all day by the old barn door. 

Over in the meadow, in a snug beehive, 
Lived an old mother bee and her little bees five. 
**Bii22/* said the mother. "We buzz/* said the five; 
So they buzzed all day in a snug beehive. 


Over in the meadow, in a nest built of sticks, 
Lived an old mother crow and her little crows six. 
"Caw," said the mother, "We caw," said the six; 
So they cawed all day in a nest built of sticks. 

Over in the meadow, where the grass grows so even. 
Lived an old mother frog and her little froggies seven. 
"Jump," said the mother. "We jump," said the seven; 
So they jumped all day where the grass grows so even. 

Over in the meadow, by the old mossy gate, 
Lived an old mother lizard and her little lizards eight. 
"Bask," said the mother. "We bask," said the eight; 
So they basked all day by the old mossy gate. 

Over in the meadow, by the old scotch pine, 
Lived an old mother duck and her little ducks nine. 
1 'Quack," said the mother. * 'We quack," said the nine; 
So they quacked all day by the old scotch pine. 

Over in the meadow, in a cozy wee den, 
Lived an old mother beaver and her little beavers ten. 
"Beave," said the mother. "We beave," said the ten; 
So they beaved all day in a cozy wee den. 

Old rhyme 



Boats sail on the rivers, 

And ships sail on the seas; 

But clouds that sad across the sky 
Are prettier far than these. 

There are bridges on the rivers, 

As pretty as you please; 
But the bow that bridges heaven, 

And overtops the trees, 
And builds a road from earth to sky, 

Is prettier far than these. 

Christina Rossetti 



O little soldier with the golden helmet, 
What are you guarding on my lawn? 
You with your green gun 
And your yellow beard, 
Why do you stand so stiff? 
There is only the grass to fight! 

Hilda Conkling 


The fields are spread like tablecloths 
Which the Moon puts to dry, 
And she has washed the high hilltops 
And whitened all the sky. 

Now pale, serene, and weary, 
She glances round the night. 
Is every flower silver? 
Is each wild eyeball bright? 

Elizabeth Coatsworth 


I saw a star slide down the sky, 
Blinding the north as it went by, 
Too burning and too quick to hold, 
Too lovely to be bought or sold, 
Good only to make wishes on 
And then forever to be gone. 

Sara Teasdale 



The Moon's the North Wind's cooky. 
He bites it, day by day, 
Until there's but a rim of scraps 
That crumble all away. 

The South Wind is a baker. 

He kneads clouds in his den, 

And bakes a crisp new moon that . . . greedy 

North . . . Wind . , . eats . . . again! 

Vachel Lindsay 



The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out 
Through the blinds and the windows and bars; 

And high overhead and all moving about, 
There were thousands of millions of stars. 

There ne'er were such thousands of leaves on a tree, 

Nor of people in church or the Park, 
As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me, 

And that glittered and winked in the dark. 

The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all, 

And the stars of the sailor, and Mars, 
These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall 

Would be half full of water and stars. 

They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries, 
And they soon had me packed into bed; 

But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes, 
And the stars going round in my head. 

Robert Louis Stevenson 



The fog comes 
on little cat feet. 

It sits looking 
over harbor and city 
on silent haunches 
and then moves on. 

Carl Sandburg 


Who has seen the wind? 

Neither I nor you: 
But when the leaves hang trembling 

The wind is passing thro'. 

Who has seen the wind? 

Neither you nor I: 
But when the trees bow down their heads 

The wind is passing by. 

Christina Rossetti 



Let the rain kiss you. 

Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. 

Let the rain sing you a lullaby. 

The ram makes still pools on the sidewalk. 

The rain makes running pools in the gutter. 

The ram plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night 

And I love the rain. 

Langston Hughes 


Down the rain falls, 
Up crackles the fire, 
Tick-tock goes the clock 
Neither lower nor higher 

Such soft little sounds 
As sleepy hens make 
When they talk to themselves 
For company's sake. 

Elizdbeth Coatsworth 



When I was making myself a game 
Up in the garden, a little rain came. 

It fell down quick in a sort of rush, 

And I crawled back under the snowball bush. 

I could hear the big drops hit the ground 
And see little puddles of dust fly round. 

A chicken came till the rain was gone; 
He had just a very few feathers on. 

He shivered a little under his skin, 
And then he shut his eyeballs in. 

Even after the rain had begun to hush 
It kept on raining up In the bush. 

One big flat drop came sliding down, 
And a ladybug that was red and brown 

Was up on a little stem waiting there, 
And I got some rain in my hair. 

Elizabeth Madox Roberts 



The night will never stay, 

The night will still go by, 

Though with a million stars 

You pin it to the sky, 

Though you bind it with the blowing wind 

And buckle it with the moon, 

The night will slip away 

Like sorrow or a tune. 

Eleanor Farjeon 


The Night was creeping on the ground! 
She crept and did not make a sound, 

Until she reached the tree: And then 
She covered it, and stole again 

Along the grass beside the wall! 
I heard the rustling of her shawl 

As she threw blackness everywhere 
Along the sky, the ground, the air, 

And in the room where I was hid! 
But, no matter what she did 

To everything that was without, 
She could not put my candle out! 

So I staid at the Night! And she 
Staitd back solemnly at me! 

]&mes Stephens 



Whenever the moon and stars are set, 

Whenever the wind is high, 
All night long in the dark and wet, 

A man goes riding by. 
Late in the night when the fires are out, 
Why does he gallop and gallop about? 
Whenever the trees are crying aloud, 

And ships are tossed at sea, 
By, on the highway, low and loud, 

By at the gallop goes he. 
By at the gallop he goes, and then 
By he comes back at the gallop again. 

Robert Louis Stevenson 



Count the white horses you meet on the way, 
Count the white horses, child, day after day, 
Keep a wish ready for wishing if you 
Wish on the ninth horse, your wish will come true. 

I saw a white horse at the end of the lane, 
I saw a white horse canter down by the shore, 
I saw a white horse that was drawing a wain, 
And one drinking out of a trough: that made four. 

I saw a white horse gallop over the down, 

I saw a white horse looking over a gate, 

I saw a white horse on the way into town, 

And one on the way coining back: that made eight. 

But oh for the ninth one: where he tossed his mane, 
And cantered and galloped and whinnied and swished 
His silky white tail, I went looking in vain, 
And the wish I had ready could never be wished. 

Count the white horses you meet on the way, 
Count the white horses, child, day after day, 
Kcef a wish ready for wishing // you 
Wish on the ninth horse, your wish will come true. 

Eleanor Farjeon 


I had a silver buckle, 
I sewed it on my shoe, 
And 'neath a sprig of mistletoe 
I danced the evening through. 

I had a bunch of cowslips, 

I hid them in a grot, 

In case the elves should come by night 

And me remember not. 

I had a yellow riband, 

I tied it in my hair, 

That, walking in the garden, 

The birds might see it there. 

I had a secret laughter, 
I laughed it near the wall: 
Only the Ivy and the wind 
May tell of it at all. 

Walter De la Mare 



Oh, little cat beside my stool, 
My tabby cat, my ashy one, 
Fll tell you something in your ear, 
It's I can put the slipper on. 

The cinders all will brush away, 
Oh, little cat beside my chair, 
And I am very beautiful 
When I comb down my hair. 

My dress was gold, my dress was blue, 
But you can hardly think of that. 
My dress came to me through the air, 
Oh, little cinder cat. 

My dress is gone a little while, 
My dress was sweet and blue and cool, 
But it will come again to me, 
Oh little cat beside my stool 

Elizabeth Madox Roberts 


There was a yellow pumpkin 
Bon on a pumpkin-patch, 
As clumsy as a 'potamus, 
As coarse as cottage-thatch. 


It longed to be a gooseberry, 

A greengage, or a grape, 

It longed to give another scent 

And have another shape. 

The roses looked askance at it, 

The lilies looked away 

4 'This thing is neither fruit nor flower!" 

Their glances seemed to say, 

One shiny night of midsummer, 

When even fairies poach, 

A good one waved her wand and said, 

"O Pumpkin! be a coach!" 

A coach of gold! a coach of glass! 

A coach with satin lined! 

If you should seek a thousand years, 

Such you would not find. 

The Princess in her crystal shoes 

Eager for the dance 

Stepped inside the pumpkin-coach 

And rolled to her romance. 

The roses reached out after it, 
The lilies looked its way 
ct O that we were pumpkins too!" 
Their glances seemed to say. 




I had a little nut tree, 

Nothing would it bear 
But a silver nutmeg 

And a golden pear; 
The King of Spain's daughter 

Came to visit me, 
And all for the sake 

Of my little nut tree. 
I skipp'd over water, 

I danced over sea, 
And all the birds in the air 

Couldn't catch me. 

Old rhyme 



The King of China's daughter 

So beautiful to see 

With her face like yellow water, left 

Her nutmeg tree. 

Her little rope for skipping 

She kissed and gave it me 

Made of painted notes of singing-birds 

Among the fields of tea. 

I skipped across the nutmeg grove, 

I skipped across the sea; 

But neither sun nor moon, my dear, 

Has yet caught me. 

Edith SitweU 



If I were Lord of Tartaiy, 

Myself and me alone, 
My bed should be of ivory, 

Of beaten gold my throne; 
And in my court would peacocks flaunt, 
And in my forests tigers haunt, 
And in my pools great fishes slant 

Their fins athwart the sun. 

If I were Lord of Tartaiy , 

Trumpeters every day 
To every meal would summon me, 

And in my courtyard bray; 
And in the evening lamps would shine, 
Yellow as honey, red as wine, 
While harp, and flute, and mandoline, 

Made music sweet and gay. 

If I were Lord of Tartary, 

I'd wear a robe of beads, 
White, and gold, and green they'd be 

And small and thick as seeds; 
And ere should wane the morning-star, 
Fd don my robe and scimitar, 
And zebras seven should draw my car 

Through Tartary 's dark glades. 


Lord of the fruits of Tartary, 

Her rivers silver-pale! 
Lord of the hills of Tartary, 

Glen, thicket, wood, and dale! 
Her flashing stars, her scented breeze, 
Her trembling lakes, like foamless seas, 
Her bird-delighting citron-trees 

In every purple vale! 

Walter De h Mare 



I saw a ship a-sailing, 

A-sailing on the sea; 
And, oh! it was all laden 

With pretty things for thee! 

There were comfits in the cabin, 

And apples in the hold. 
The sails were made of silk, 

And the masts were made of gold. 

The four-and-twenty sailors 
That stood between the decks, 

Were four-and-twenty white mice 
With chains about their necks. 

The captain was a duck, 
With a packet on his back; 

And when the ship began to move. 
The captain said, "Quack! Quack!" 

Old rhyme 



My sweetheart's a Sailor, 

He sails on the sea, 

When he comes home 

He brings presents for me; 

Coral from China, 

Silks from Siam, 

Parrots and pearls 

From Seringapatam, 

Silver from Mexico, 

Gold from Peru, 

Indian feathers 

From Kalamazoo, 

Scents from Sumatra, 

Mantillas from Spain, 

A fisherman's float 

From the waters of Maine, 

Reindeers from Lapland, 

Ducks from Bombay, 

A unicorn's horn. 

From the Land of Cathay 

Isn't it lucky 

For someone like me 

To marry a Sailor 

Who sails on the sea! 

Eleanor F&rjeon 



To think I once saw grocery shops 

With but a casual eye 
And fingered figs and apricots 

As one who came to buy! 

To think I never dreamed of how 

Bananas swayed in rain, 
And often looked at oranges 

Yet never thought of Spain! 

And in those wasted days I saw 

No sails above the tea 
For grocery shops were grocery shops, 

Not hemispheres to me! 

Elizabeth Codtsworth 



" Bunches of grapes/* says Timothy; 
"Pomegranates pink," says Elaine; 
"A junket of cream and a cranberry tart 
For me," says Jane. 

t," says Timothy; 
* 4 Primroses pale," says Elaine; 
"A nosegay of pinks and mignonette 
For me," says Jane. 

* 'Chariots of "gold/* says Timothy; 

* 'Silvery wings/' says Elame; 

"A bumpity ride in a wagon of hay 
For me," says Jane. 

Walter De la M&re 


Peregrine White 

And Virginia Dare 

Were the first real Americans 


Others might find it 
Strange to come 
Over the ocean 
To make a home, 

England and memory 
Left behind 
But Virginia and Peregrine 
Didn't mind. 

One of them born 
On Roanoke, 
And the other cradled 
In Pilgrim oak. 

Rogues might bicker 
And good men pray. 
Did they pay attention? 
No, not they. 

Men might grumble 
And women weep 
But Virginia and Peregrine 
Went to sleep. 

They had their dinner 
And napped and then 
When they woke up 
It was dinner again. 

They didn't worry, 
They didn't wish, 
They didn't farm 
And they didn't fish. 

There was lots of work 
But they didn't do it. 
They were pioneers 
But they never knew it. 

Wolves in the forest 
And Indian drums! 
Virginia and Peregrine 
Sucked their thumbs. 

They were only babies. 
They didn't care. 
Peregrine White 
And Virginia Dare. 

Rosem&ry and Stephen Vincent Benet 


1446? 1506 

There are lots of queer things that discoverers do 
But his was the queerest, I swear. 
He discovered our country in One Four Nine Two 
By thinking it couldn't be there. 

It wasn't his folly, it wasn't his fault, 

For the very best maps of the day 

Showed nothing but water, extensive and salt, 

On the West, between Spain and Bombay. 

There were monsters, of course, every watery mile, 

Great krakens with blubbery lips 

And sea-serpents smiling a crocodile-smile 

As they waited for poor little ships. 

There were whirlpools and maelstroms, without any 


And tornadoes of lava and ink. 
(Which, as nobody yet had been there to find out, 
Seems a little bit odd, don't you think?) 

But Columbus was bold and Columbus set sail 

(Thanks to Queen Isabella, her pelf), 

For he said "Though there may be both monster and 

I'd like to find out for myseE" 


And he sailed and he sailed and he sailed and he 


Though his crew would have gladly turned round 
And, morning and evening, distressfully wailed 
'This is running things into the ground!" 

But he paid no attention to protest or squall, 
This obstinate son of the mast, 
And so, in the end, he discovered us all, 
Remarking, ' 'Here's India, at last!" 

He didn't intend it, he meant to heave to 

At Calcutta, Rangoon or Shanghai, 

There are many queer things that discoverers do. 

But his was the queerest. Oh my! 

Rosemary and Stephen Vincent Benet 


Ho, for the Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee! 
He was as wicked as wicked could be, 
But oh, he was perfectly gorgeous to see! 
The Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee. 

His conscience, of course, was as black as a bat, 
But he had a floppety plume on his hat 
And when he went walking it jiggled like that! 
The plume of the Pirate Dowdee. 

His coat it was crimson and cut with a slash, 
And often as ever he twirled his mustache 
Deep down in the ocean the mermaids went splash, 
Because of Don Durk of Dowdee. 

Moreover, Dowdee had a purple tattoo, 
And stuck in his belt where he buckled it through 
Were a dagger, a dirk, and a squizzamaroo, 
For fierce was the Pirate Dowdee. 

So fearful he was, he would shoot at a puff, 
And always at sea when the weather grew rough 
He drank from a bottle and wrote on his cuff, 
Did Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee. 


Oh, he had a cutlass that swung at his thigh 
And he had a parrot called Pepperkin Pyc, 
And a zigzaggy scar at the end of his eye 
Had Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee. 

He kept in a cavern, this buccaneer bold, 
A curious chest that was covered with mould, 
And all of his pockets were jingly with gold! 
Oh jing! went the gold of Dowdee. 

His conscience, of course, it was crook'd like a squash, 

But both of his boots made a skkery slosh 

Did Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee. 

It's true he was wicked as wicked could be, 
His sins they outnumbered a hundred and three, 
But oh, he was perfectly gorgeous to see! 
The Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee. 

Mildred Plew Merryman 



The night was thick and hazy 

When the Piccadilly Daisy 
Carried down the crew and captain in the sea; 

And I think the water drowned 'em; 

For they never, never found *em, 
And I know they didn't come ashore with me. 

Oh! 'twas very sad and lonely 

When I found myself the only 
Population on this cultivated shore; 

But I've made a little tavern 

In a rocky little cavern, 
And I sit and watch for people at the door. 

I spent no time in looking 

For a girl to do my cooking, 
As I'm quite a clever hand at making stews; 

But I had that fellow Friday, 

Just to keep the tavern tidy, 
And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. 

I have a little garden 

That Fm cultivating lard in, 
As the things I eat are rather tough and dry; 

For I live on toasted lizards, 

Prickly pears, and parrot gizzards, 
And I'm really very fond of beetle pie. 

The cloches I had were funy, 

And it made me fret and worry 
When I found the moths were eating off the hair; 

And I had to scrape and sand 'em, 

And I boded 'em and I tanned 'em, 
Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear. 

I sometimes seek diversion 

In a family excursion 
With the few domestic animals you see; 

And we take along a carrot 

As refreshment for the parrot, 
And a little can of jungleberry tea. 

Then we gather, as we travel, 

Bits of moss and ditty gravel, 
And we chip off little specimens of stone; 

And we carry home as prizes 

Funny bugs, of handy sizes, 
Just to give the day a scientific tone. 

If the roads are wet and muddy, 
We remain at home and study, 
For the Goat is very clever at a sum, 

And the Dog, instead of fighting, 

c j- t - & & 

studies ornamental writing, 

While the Cat is taking lessons on the drum. 


We retire at eleven, 

And we rise again at seven ; 

And I wish to call attention, as I close, 
To the fact that all the scholars 
Are correct about their collars, 

And particular in turning out their toes. 

Charles Edw&rd Carryl 



The tale of the little Cossack, 

Who lived by the river Don: 

He sat on a sea-green hassock, 

And his grandfather's name was John. 

His grandfather's name was John, my dears, 

And he lived upon bottled stout; 

And when he was found to be not at home, 

He was frequently found to be out. 

The tale of the little Cossack, 

He sat by the riverside, 

And wept when he heard the people say 

That his hair was probably dyed. 

That his hair was probably dyed, my dears, 

And his teeth were undoubtedly sham; 

"If this be true," quoth the little Cossack, 

"What a poor little thing I am! " 

The tale of the little Cossack, 

He sat by the river's brim, 

And he looked at the little fishes, 

And the fishes looked back at him, 

The fishes looked back at him, my dears, 

And winked at him, which was wuss; 

"If this be true, my friend," they said, 

"You'd better come down to us." 


-$ *" 



The tale of the little Cossack, 
He said, "You are doubtless right, 
Though drowning is not a becoming death, 
For it makes one look like a fright. 
If my lovely teeth be crockery, 
And my hair of Tyrian dye, 
Then life is a bitter mockery, 
And no more of it will I!" 

The tale of the little Cossack, 
He drank of the stout so brown; 
Then put his toes in the water, 
And the fishes dragged him down. 
And the people threw in his hassock 
And likewise his grandfather John; 
And there was an end of the family, 
On the banks of the river Don, 

E. Richards 



The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea 

In a beautiful pea-green boat: 
They took some honey, and plenty of money 

Wrapped up in a five-pound note. 
The Owl looked up to the stars above, 

And sang to a small guitar, 
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love, 

What a beautiful Pussy you are, 
You are, 
You are! 

What a beautiful Pussy you are! " 

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl, 

How charmingly sweet you sing! 
Ohl let us be married; too long we have tarried: 

But what shall we do for a ring?" 
They sailed away, for a year and a day, 

To the land where the bong-tree grows; 
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood, 

With a ring at the end of his nose, 
His nose, 
His nose, 

With a ring at the end of his nose. 


"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling 

Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will" 
So they took it away, and were married next day 

By the Turkey who lives on the hill. 
They dined on mince and slices of quince, 

Which they ate with a runcible spoon; 
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, 

They danced by the light of the moon, 
The moon, 
The moon. 

They danced by the light of the moon. 

Edw&rd Lear 



Said the Duck to the Kangaroo, 

"Good gracious! how you hop 
Over the fields, and the water too, 

As if you never would stop! 
My life is a bore in this nasty pond; 
And I long to go out in the world beyond: 

I wish I could hop like you," 

Said the Duck to the Kangaroo. 

"Please give me a ride on your back," 

Said the Duck to the Kangaroo: 
"I would sit quite still, and say nothing but 'Quack' 

The whole of the long day through; 
And we'd go the Dee, and the Jelly Bo Lee, 
Over the land, and over the sea: 

Please take me a ride! oh, do!" 

Said the Duck to the Kangaroo. 

Said the Kangaroo to the Duck, 

4 'This requires some little reflection. 
Perhaps, on the whole, it might bring me luck: 

And there seems but one objection; 
Which is, if you'll let me speak so bold, 
Your feet are unpleasantly wet and cold, 

And would probably give me the roo- 

Matiz," said the Kangaroo. 

Said the Duck, "As 1 sate on the rock, 

I havt thought over that completely; 
And I bought four pairs of worsted socks, 

Which fit my web-feet neatly; 
And, to keep out the cold, IVe bought a cloak; 
And every day a cigar I'll smoke; 

All to follow my own dear true 

Love of a Kangaroo." 

Said the Kangaroo, *Tm ready, 

All in the moonlight pale; 
But to balance me well, dear Duck, sit steady, 

And quite at the end of my tail." 
So away they went with a hop and a bound; 
And they hopped the whole world three times round. 

And who so happy, oh! who, 

As the Duck and the Kangaroo? 

Edward Le&r 



Skinny Mrs. Snipkin, 

With her little pipkin, 
Sat by the fireside a-warming of her toes. 

Fat Mrs. Wobblechin, 

With her little doublechin, 
Sat by the window a-cooling of her nose. 

Says this one to that one, 
4< Oh! you silly fat one, 

Will you shut the window down? You're freezing me 
to death!" 

Says that one to t'other one, 
"Good gracious, how you bother one! 
There isn't air enough for me to draw my precious 

Skinny Mrs, Snipkin, 

Took her little pipkin, 

Threw it straight across the room as hard as she could 

Hit Mrs. Wobblechin 

On her little doublechin, 
And out of the window a-tumble she did go. 

Laura E. Richards 



The sun was shining on the sea, 
Shining -with all his might: 

He did his very best to make 

The billows smooth and bright 

And this was odd, because it was 
The middle of the night. 

The moon was shining sulkily, 
Because she thought the sun 

Had got no business to be there 
After the day was done 

**It y s very rude of him," she said, 
"To come and spoil the fun!" 

The sea -was wet as wet could be, 
The sands were dry as dry. 

You could not see a cloud, because 
No cloud was in the sky: 

No birds were flying overhead 

There were no birds to fly. 

The Walrus and the Carpenter 
Were walking close at hand; 

They wept like anything to see 
Such quantities of sand; 

"If this were only cleared away/* 
They said, **it would be grand!" 


"If seven maids with seven mops 

Swept it for half a year, 
Do you suppose," the Walrus said, 

"That they could get it clear?" 
<C I doubt it," said the Carpenter, 

And shed a bitter tear. 

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!" 

The Walrus did beseech. 
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, 

Along the briny beach: 
We cannot do with more than four, 

To give a hand to each." 

The eldest Oyster looked at him, 

But never a word he said: 
The eldest Oyster winked his eye, 

And shook his heavy head 
Meaning to say he did not choose 

To leave the oyster-bed. 

But four young Oysters hurried up, 

All eager for the treat: 
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, 

Their shoes were clean and neat 
And this was odd, because, you know, 

They hadn't any feet. 


Four other Oysters followed them, 

And yet another four; 
And thick and fast they came at last, 

And more, and more, and more 
All hopping through the frothy waves, 

And scrambling to the shore. 

The Walrus and the Carpenter 

Walked on a mile or so, 
And then they rested on a rock 

Conveniently low: 
And all the little Oysters stood 

And "waited in a row. 

"The time has come," the Walrus said, 

"To talk of many things: 
Of shoes and ships and sealmg-wax- 

Of cabbages and kings 
And why the sea is boiling hot 

And whether pigs have wings/* 

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried, 

"Before we have our chat; 
For some of us are out of breath, 

And all of us are fat!" 
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter, 

They thanked him much for that. 


"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said, 
"Is what we chiefly need: 

Pepper and vinegar besides 
Are very good indeed 

Now if you're ready, Oysters dear, 
We can begin to feed/* 

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried, 

Turning a little blue. 
"After such kindness, that would be 

A dismal thing to do!" 
"The night is fine/' the Walrus said. 

"Do you admire the view? 

"It was so kind of you to come! 

And you are very nice!" 
The Carpenter said nothing but 

"Cut us another slice: 
I wish you were not quite so deaf 

I've had to ask you twice!" 

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said, 

"To play them such a trick, 
After we've brought them out so far, 

And made them trot so quick!" 
The Carpenter said nothing but 

"The butter's spread too thick!" 

"I weep for you," the Walrus said: 

"I deeply sympathize." 
With sobs and tears he sorted out 

Those of the largest size, 
Holding his pocket-handkerchief 

Before his streaming eyes, 

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter, 

"YouVe had a pleasant run! 
Shall we be trotting home again?" 

But answer came there none 
And this was scarcely odd, because 

They'd eaten every one. 

Lewis Carroll 



In silken, milken Samarcand, 

There lived a prince so great and grand, 

His neighbors dared not speak his name, 

But he was known to foreign fame 

As Sulki Mulki Bulki Beg, 

The Sultan of the Silver Leg. 

He loved a maiden sweet and rare; 
I'm told there was no maid so fair, 
In all the Oriental land, 
As Lovely Lil of Samarcand. 
But she had set her heart so fond 
On Tartar Tim of Trezibond. 

Tartar Tim was trig and trim, 

Fair of face and lithe of limb; 

His heart was gay, his looks were airy, 

He rode a piebald dromedary, 

And he informed the Sultan grim 

That Lovely Lil belonged to him. 

"Ha! say you so?" the Sultan cried. 
*'The day you claim her as your bride, 
I'll cut you both in little pieces, 
And give you to the jackal's nieces! 
His nephews too; they both abound; 
In fact, they're waiting, all around/' 


The Sultan set his twenty wives 
To sharpening his twenty knives; 
But while he thus was making ready, 
The Tartar and his lovely lady 
Were ambling, in converse fond, 
Along the road to Trebizond. 

The dromedary was so swift 

He took them there in half a jift. 

Wedded they were with song and laughter. 

And lived in bliss for ever after; 

While Sulki turned his twenty knives 

In fury on his twenty wives. 

This simple tale I'd fain complete, 
But I have met with sad defeat. 
Search how I will, ask where I may, 
I cannot to this very day 
Find why great Sulki Bulki Beg 
Was Sultan of the Silver Leg! 

E, Richards 



Fll tell dice everything I can; 

There's little to relate. 
I saw an aged aged man, 

A-sitting on a gate. 
"Who are you, aged man?" I said. 

"And how is it you live?" 
And his answer trickled through my head 

Like water through a sieve. 

He said "I look for butterflies 

That sleep among the wheat: 
I make them into mutton-pies, 

And sell them in the street. 
I sell them unto men," he said, 

"Who sail the stormy seas; 
And that's the way I get my bread 

A trifle, if you please." 

But I was thinking of a plan 

To dye one's whiskers green, 
And always use so large a fan 

That they could not be seen. 
So, having no reply to give 

To what the old man said, 
I cried "Come, tell me how you live!" 

And thumped him on the head. 


His accents mild took up the tale: 

He said **I go my ways, 
And when I find a mountain-rill, 

I set it in a blaze; 
And thence they make a stuff they call 

Rowland's Macassar Oil 

Yet twopence-halfpenny is all 

They give me for my toil." 

But I was thinking of a way 

To feed oneself on batter, 
And so go on from day to day 

Getting a little fatter. 
I shook him well from side to side, 

Until his face was blue: 
"Come, tell me how you live," I cried 

"And what it is you do!" 

He said "I hunt for haddocks* eyes 

Among the heather bright, 
And -work them into waistcoat-buttons 

In the silent of the night. 
And these I do not sell for gold 

Or coin of silvery shine, 
But for a copper halfpenny, 

And that will purchase nine. 

"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls, 

Or set limed twigs for crabs; 
I sometimes search the grassy knolls 

For wheels of hansom-cabs. 
And that's the way" (he gave a wink) 

"By which I get my wealth 
And very gladly will I drink 

Your Honour's noble health." 

I heard him then, for I had just 

Completed my design 
To keep the Menai bridge from rust 

By boiling it in wine. 
I thanked him much for telling me 

The way he got his wealth, 
But chiefly for his wish that he 

Might drink my noble health. 

And now, if e'er by chance I put 

My fingers into glue, 
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot 

Into a left-hand shoe, 
Or if I drop upon my toe 

A veiy heavy weight, 
I weep, for it reminds me so 
Of that old man I used to know 
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow, 

Whose hair was whiter than the snow, 
Whose face was very like a crow, 
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow, 
Who seemed distracted with his woe, 
Who rocked his body to and fro, 
And muttered mumblingly and low, 
As if his mouth were full of dough, 
Who snorted like a buffalo 
That summer evening long ago 
A-sitting on a gate. 

Lewis Carroll 



He thought he saw an Elephant, 

That practised on a fife: 
He looked again, and found it was 

A letter from his wife. 
"At length I realise," he said, 

"The bitterness of Life!" 

He thought he saw a Buffalo 

Upon the chimney-piece: 
He looked again, and found it was 

His Sister's Husband's Niece. 
"Unless you leave this house," he said, 

"111 send for the Police!" 

He thought he saw a Rattlesnake 
That questioned him in Greek: 

He looked again, and found it was 
The Middle of Next Week. 

"The one thing I regret," he said, 
"Is that it cannot speak!" 

He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk 

Descending from the bus: 
He looked again, and found it was 

A Hippopotamus: 
"If this should stay to dine," he said, 

"There won't be much for us!" 


He thought he saw a Kangaroo 

That worked a coffee-mill: 
He looked again, and found it was 

A Vegetable-PilL 
"Were I to swallow this/' he said, 

"I should be very ill!" 

He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four 

That stood beside his bed: 
He looked again, and found it was 

A Bear without a Head, 
"Poor thing," he said, "poor silly thing! 

It's waiting to be fed!" 

He thought he saw an Albatross 
That fluttered round the lamp: 

He looked again, and found it was 
A Penny-Postage-Stamp. 

"You'd best be getting home/* he said: 
The nights are very damp!" 

He thought he saw a Garden-Door 

That opened with a key: 
He looked again, and found it was 

A Double Rule of Three: 
"And all its mystery," he said, 

"Is clear as day to me!" 


He thought he saw an Argument 
That proved he was the Pope: 

He looked again, and found it was 
A Bar of Mottled Soap. 

"A fact so dread/ 1 he faintly said, 
"Extinguishes all hope!" 

Lewis Carroll 


On the top of the Crumpetty Tree 

The Quangle Wangle sat, 
But his face you could not see, 

On account of his Beaver Hat. 
For his Hat was a hundred and two feet wide, 
With ribbons and bibbons on every side, 
And bells, and buttons, and loops, and lace, 
So that nobody ever could see the face 

Of the Quangle Wangle Quee. 

The Quangle Wangle said 

To himself on the Crumpetty Tree, 

"Jam, and jelly, and bread 
Are the best of food for me! 

But the longer I live on this Crumpetty Tree 

The plainer than ever it seems to me 

That very few people come this way 

And that life on the whole is far from gay!" 
Said the Quangle Wangle Quee. 


But there came to the Crampetty Tree 

Mr. and Mrs. Canary; 
And they said, "Did ever you see 

Any spot so charmingly airy? 
May we build a nest on your lovely Hat? 
Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that! 
O please let us come and build a nest 
Of whatever material suits you best, 

Mr. Quangle Wangk Queef" 


And besides, to the Crampetty Tree 

Came the Stork, the Duck, and the Owl; 

The Snail and the Bumble-Bee, 
The Frog and the Fimble Fowl 

(The Fimble Fowl, with a Corkscrew leg); 

And all o them said, "We humbly beg 

We may build our homes on your lovely Hat, 

Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that! 

Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!" 

And the Golden Grouse came there, 

And the Pobble who has no toes, 
And the small Olympian bear, 

And the Dong with a luminous nose. 
And the Blue Baboon who played the flute, 
And the Orient Calf from the Land of Tute, 
And the Attery Squash, and the Bisky Bat, 
All came and built on the lovely Hat 

Of the Quangle Wangle Quee. 

And the Quangle Wangle said 

To himself on the Crumpetty Tree, 
"When all these creatures move 

What a wonderful noise there'll be!" 
And at night by the light of the Mulberry moon 
They danced to the Flute of the Blue Baboon, 
On the broad green leaves of the Crumpetty Tree, 
And all were as happy as happy could be, 

With the Quangle Wangle Quee. 

r g -t Edward Lear 


There once was a ftog, 

And he lived in a bog, 

On the banks of Lake Okeefinokee. 

And the words of the song 

That he sang aU ^ay long 

Were, "Croakety croakety croaky." 

Said the frog, "I have found 

That my life's daily round 

In this place is exceedingly poky. 

So no longer I'll stop, 

But I swiftly will hop 

Away from Lake Okeefinokee." 

Now a bad mocking-bird 

By mischance overheard 

The words of the frog as he spoken 

And he said, "AU my life 

Frog and Fve been at strife. 

As we lived by Lake Okeefinokee. 

"Now I see at a glance 

Here's a capital chance 

For to play him a practical jokee. 

So I'll venture to say 

That he shall not to-day 

Leave the banks of Lake Okeefinokee/* 


So this bad mocking-bird, 

Without saying a word, 

He flew to a tree which was oaky; 

And loudly he sang, 

Till the whole forest rang, 

"Oh! Qoakety croakety croaky!" 

As he warbled this song, 
Master Frog came along, 
A-filling his pipe for to smokee; 
And he said, " Tis some frog 
Has escaped from the bog 
Of Qkeefinokee-finokee. 

"I am filled with amaze 

To hear one of my race 

A-warbling on top of an oaky; 

But if frogs can climb trees, 

I may still find some ease 

On the banks of Lake Okeefinokee." 

So he climbed up the tree; 

But alas! down fell hef 

And his lovely green neck it was brokee; 

And the sad truth to say, 

Never more did he stray 

From the banks of Lake Okeefinokee. 


And the bad mocking-bird 

Said, "How very absurd 

And delightful a practical jokec!" 

But Fm happy to say 

He was drowned the next day 

In the waters of Qkeefinokee. 

L&ura E. Richards 



Canary-birds feed on sugar and seed, 

Parrots have crackers to crunch; 
And as for the poodles, they tell me the noodles 
Have chickens and cream for their lunch. 
But there's never a question 
About MY digestion 
ANYTHING does for me! 

Cats, you're aware, can repose in a chair, 

Chickens can roost upon rails; 
Puppies are able to sleep in a stable, 
And oysters can slumber in pails. 
And no one supposes 
A poor Camel dozes 
ANY PLACE does for me! 

Lambs are enclosed where it's never exposed, 

Coops are constructed for hens; 
Kittens are treated to houses well heated, 
And pigs are protected by pens. 
But a Camel comes handy 
Wherever it's sandy 
ANYWHERE does for me! 


People would laugh if you rode a giraffe, 

Or mounted the back of an ox; 
It's nobody's habit to ride on a rabbit, 
Or try to bestraddle a fox. 
But as for a Camel, he's 
Ridden by families 
ANY LOAD does for me! 

A snake is as round as a hole in the ground, 

And weasels are wavy and sleek; 
And no alligator could ever be straighter 
Than lizards that live in a creek, 
But a Camel's all lumpy 
And bumpy and humpy 
ANY SHAPE does for me! 

Charles Edw&rd Carryl 


As a friend to the children commend me the Yak. 

You will find it exactly the thing: 
It will carry and fetch, you can ride on its back, 

Or lead it about with a string. 

The Tartar who dwells on the plains of Thibet 

(A desolate region of snow) 
Has for centuries made it a nursery pet, 

And surely the Tartar should know! 

Then tell your papa where the Yak can be got. 

And if he is awfully rich 
He will buy you the creature or else he will not, 

(I cannot be positive which.) 

Hilaire Bclloc 



I saw a proud, mysterious cat, 
I saw a proud, mysterious cat, 
Too proud to catch a mouse or rat 
Mew, mew, mew. 

But catnip she would eat, and purr, 
But catnip she would eat, and purr. 
And goldfish she did much prefer 
Mew, mew, mew. 

I saw a cat 'twas but a dream, 

I saw a cat 'twas but a dream 

Who scorned the slave that brought her cream 

Mew, mew, mew. 

Unless the slave were dressed in style, 
Unless the slave were dressed in style, 
And knelt before her all the whiifr 
Mew, mew, mew. 

Did you ever hear of a thing like that? 
Did you ever hear of a thing like that? 
Did you ever hear of a thing like that? 
Oh, what a proud, mysterious cat. 
Oh, what a proud, mysterious cat. 
Oh, what a proud, mysterious cat. 
Mew . . . mew . , . mew. 

Vacbel Lindsay 


All along the backwater, 
Through the rushes tall, 
Ducks are a-dabbling, 
Up tails all! 

Ducks' tails, drakes' tails, 
Yellow feet a-quiver, 
Yellow bills all out of sight 
Busy in the river! 

Slushy gran undergrowth 
Where the roach swim 
Here we keep our larder, 
Cool and full and dim! 

Every one for what he likes! 
We like to be 
Heads down, tails up, 
Dabbling free! 

High in the blue above 
Swifts whirl and call 
We art down a-dabbling 
Up tails all! 

Kenneth Grabtme 


The night was coming very fast; 
It reached the gate as I ran past. 

The pigeons had gone to the tower of the church 
And all the hens were on their perch, 

Up in the barn, and I thought I heard 
A piece of a little purring word, 

I stopped inside, waiting and staying, 
To try to hear what the hens were saying. 

They were asking something, that was plain. 
Asking it over and over again* 

One of them moved and turned around, 
Her feathers made a ruffled sound, 

A ruffled sound, like a bushful of birds, 
And she said her little asking words. 

She pushed her head close into her wing, 
But nothing answered anything. 

Elizabeth Madox Roberts 


Strutting cock, with swelling chest, 

Stepping on your scaly legs 
Past the warm and busy nest 

Where the worried hens lay eggs, 
"Why do you, I'd like to know, 
Strut and crow and swagger so? 

Do you really think, I beg, 

When the sun swims into view, 

That it is a yellow egg 

Which has just been kid by you? 

While your poor wives cackle tunes, 

Only laying little moons. 

Eleanor Farjeon 



A bird came down the walk: 
He did not know I saw; 
He bit an angle-worm in halves 
And ate the fellow, raw. 

And then he drank a dew 

From a convenient grass, 

And then hopped sidewise to the wall 

To let a beetle pass. 

He glanced with rapid eyes 

That hurried all abroad, 

They looked like frightened beads, I thought 

He stirred his velvet head 

Like one in danger; cautious, 
I offered him a crumb, 
And he unrolled his feathers 
And rowed him softer home 

Than oars divide the ocean, 
Too silver for a seam, 
Or butterflies, off banks of noon, 
Leap, plashless, as they swim. 

Emily Dickinson 
[ro 7 ] 


A little light is going by, 
Is going up to see the sky, 
A little light with wings. 

I never could have thought of it, 
To have a little bug all lit 
And made to go on wings. 

Elizabeth Madox Roberts 




By the shores of Gitche Gurnee, 
By the shining Big-Sea-Water, 
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, 
Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. 
Dark behind it rose the forest, 
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, 
Rose the firs with cones upon them; 
Bright before it beat the water, 
Beat the clear and sunny water, 
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water. 

At the door on summer evenings 
Sat the little Hiawatha; 
Heard the whispering of the pine-traces, 
Heard the lapping of the waters, 
Sounds of music, words of wonder; 
"Minne-wawa!" said the pine-trees, 
"Mudway-aushka!" said the water, 

Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, 
Flitting through the dusk of evening, 
With the twinkle of its candle 
Lighting up the brakes and bushes, 
And he sang the song of children, 
Sang the song Nokomis taught him: 
"Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly, 

[ I0 9l 

Little, flitting, white-fire insect, 
Little, dancing, white-fire creature, 
Light me with your little candle, 
Ere upon my bed I lay me, 
Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!" 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 


To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall, 
The Snail sticks close, nor fears to fall, 
As if he grew there, house and aE 



Within that house secure he hides, 
When danger imminent betides 
Of storm, or other harm besides 

Of weather. 

Give but his horns die slightest touch, 
His self-collecting power is such, 
He shrinks into his house with much 


Where'er he dwells, he dwells alone, 
Except himself has chattels none, 
WeU satisfied to be his own 

Whole treasure. 

Thus, hermit-like, his life he leads, 
Nor partner of his banquet needs, 
And i he meets one, only feeds 
The faster. 

Who seeks him must be worse than blind, 
He and his house are so combined, 
If, finding it, he fails to find 

Its master. 

William Cowper> translated from Vincent Bourne 


I saw a little snail 

Come down the garden walk. 

He wagged his head this way . . . that way * . . 

Like a clown in a circus. 

He looked from side to side 

As though he were from a different country. 

I have always said he carries his house on his back 

To-day in the rain 

I saw that it was his umbrella! 



Once a dream did weave a shade 
O'er my Angel-guarded bed, 
That an emmet lost its way 
Where on grass methought I lay. 

Troubled, 'wilder'd, and forlorn, 
Dark, benighted, travel-worn, 
Over many a tangled spray, 
All heart-broke I heard her say: 

'0, my children! do they cry? 
Do they hear their father sigh? 
Now they look abroad to see: 
Now return and weep for me/ 

Pitying, I dropp'd a tear; 
But I saw a glow-worm near, 
Who replied: 'What wailing wight 
Calls the watchman of the night? 

1 am set to light the ground, 
While the beetle goes his round: 
FoUow now the beetle's hum; 
Little wanderer, hie thee home/ 

William Blake 



I like the way you wear your wings. 

Show me their colours, 

For the light is going. 

Spread out their edges of gold, 

Before the sandman puts me to sleep 

And evening murmurs by. 

Hilda ConkUng 


The horses of the sea 

Rear a foaming crest, 
But the horses of the land 

Serve us the best. 

The horses of the land 
Munch com and clover. 

While the foaming sea-faotses 
Toss and turn over. 



Wonder where this horseshoe went. 
Up and down, up and down, 
Up and past the monument, 
Maybe into town. 

Wait a minute. "Horseshoe, 
How far have you been?" 
Says it's been to Salem 
And halfway to Lynn. 

Wonder who was in the team. 
Wonder what they saw. 
Wonder if they passed a bridge 
Bridge with a draw. 

Says it went from one bridge 
Straight upon another. 
Says it took a little girl 
Driving with her mother. 

Edna St. Vincent Millay 



Thank you, pretty cow, that made 
Pleasant milk to soak my bread, 
Every day and every night, 
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white. 

Do not chew the hemlock rank, 
Growing on the weedy bank; 
But the yellow cowslip eat, 
That will make it very sweet. 

Where the purple violet grows, 
Where the bubbling water flows, 
Where the grass is fresh and fine, 
Pretty cow, go there and dine. 

]&ne T&yl&f 


How sweet Is the Shepherd's sweet lot! 
From the morn to the evening he strays; 
He shall follow his sheep all the day, 
And his tongue shall be filled with praise. 

For he hears the lamb's innocent call, 
And he hears the ewe's tender reply; 
He is watchful while they are in peace, 
For they know when their Shepherd is nigh. 

William Blake 



Little Lamb, who made thee? 

Dost thou know who made thee? 
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed, 
By the stream and o'er the mead; 
Gave thee clothing of delight, 
Softest clothing, woolly, bright; 
Gave thee such a tender voice, 
Making all the vales rejoice? 

Little Lamb, who made thee? 

Dost thou know who made thee? 

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee, 

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee: 
He is called by thy name, 
For He calls Himself a Lamb. 
He is meek, and He is mild; 
He became a little child. 
I a child, and thou a Iamb, 
We are called by His name. 

Little Lamb, God bless thee! 

Little Lamb, God bless thee! 

Willmm BUk* 



If Bethlehem were here today, 
Or this were very long ago, 
There wouldn't be a winter time 
Nor any cold or snow. 

Fd run out through the garden gate, 
And go down along the pasture walk; 
And off beside the cattle barns 
I'd hear a kind of gentle talk. 

Fd move the heavy iron chain 
And pull away the wooden pin; 
Fd push the door a little bit 
And tiptoe very softly in. 

The pigeons and the yellow hens 
And all the cows would stand away; 
Their eyes would open wide to see 
A lady in the manger hay, 

If this were very long ago 

And Bethlehem were here today. 

And Mother held my hand and smiled- 
I mean the lady would and she 
Would take the woolly blankets oflE 
Her little boy so I could see. 

His shut-up eyes would be asleep, 
And he would look like our John, 
And he would be all crumpled too, 
And have a pinkish color on. 

I'd watch his breath go in and out. 
His little clothes would all be white. 
I'd slip my finger in his hand 
To feel how he could hold it tight. 

And she would smile and say, "Take care," 
The mother, Mary, would, "Take care"; 
And I would kiss his little hand 
And touch his hair. 


While Mary put the blankets back 
The gentle talk would soon begin. 
And when Fd tiptoe softly out 
Fd meet the wise men going in. 

Elizabeth Madox Roberts 



The little Jesus came to town; 

The wind blew up, the wind blew down; 

Out in the street the wind was bold; 

Now who would house Him from the cold? 

Then opened wide the stable door, 
Fair were the rushes on the floor; 
The Ox put forth a horned head: 
"Come, little Lord, here make Thy bed." 

Up rose the Sheep were folded near: 
"Thou Lamb of God, come, enter here/' 
He entered there to rush and reed, 
Who was the Lamb of God indeed. 

The little Jesus came to town; 
With ox and sheep He laid Him down; 
Peace to thy byre, peace to the fold, 
For that they housed Him from the cold! 

Lizzette Woodworth Reese 



'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through 

the house 

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; 
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, 
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; 
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; 
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, 
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, 
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. 
Away to the window I flew like a flash, 
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. 
The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow, 
Gave a luster of midday to objects below; 
When what to my wondering eyes should appear 
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, 
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, 
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: 
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancerand Vixen! 
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! 
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! 
Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all!'* 
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, 


When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, 
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 
With a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. 
And then in a twinkle, I heard on the roof 
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 
As I drew in my head, and was turning around, 

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, 
And his clothes were all covered with ashes and soot; 
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, 
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 
His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! 
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! 
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow; 
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; 
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, 
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; 
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, 
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; 
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, 
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk", 
And laying his finger aside of his nose 
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; 
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, 
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night/* 

Clement C. Moore 


Little Jesus, wast Thou shy 
Once, and just so small as I? 
And what did it feel like to be 
Out of Heaven, and just like me? 
Didst Thou sometimes think of there, 
And ask where all the angels were? 
I should think that I would cry 
For my house all made of sky; 
I would look about the air, 
And wonder where my angels were; 
And at waking 'twould distress me 
Not an angel there to dress me! 

Hadst Thou ever any toys, 

Like us little girls and boys? 

And didst Thou play in Heaven with all 

The angels, that were not too tall, 

With stars for marbles? Did the things 

Play Can you see me"? through their wings? 

Didst Thou kneel at night to pray, 
And didst Thou join Thy hands, this way? 
And did they tire sometimes, being young, 
And make the prayer seem very long? 
And dost Thou like it best, that we 
Should join our hands to pray to Thee? 

I used to think, before I knew, 
The prayer not said unless we do. 
And did Thy Mother at the night 
Kiss Thee, and fold the clothes in right? 
And didst Thou feel quite good in bed, 
Kissed, and sweet, and Thy prayers said? 

Thou canst not have forgotten all 

That it feels like to be small: 

And Thou know'st I cannot pray 

To Thee in my father's way 

When Thou wast so little, say, 

Couldst Thou talk Thy Father's way? 

So, a little Child, come down 

And hear a child's tongue like Thy own; 

Take me by the hand and walk, 

And listen to my baby-talk. 

To Thy Father show my prayer 

(He will look, Thou art so fair), 

And say: "O Father, I, Thy Son, 

Bnng the prayer of a little one.'* 

And He will smile, that children's tongue 
Has not changed since Thou wast young! 

Francis Thompson 


When we were little childer we had a quare wee house, 

Away up in the heather by the head o* Brabla' burn; 

The hares we'd see them scootin', an' we'd hear the 

crowm' grouse, 

An* when we'd all be in at night ye'd not get room 
to turn. 

The youngest two She'd put to bed, their faces to the 

An* the lave of us could sit aroun', just anywhere 

we might; 

Herself 'ud take the rush-dip an' light it for us all, 
An' "God be thanked" she would say, "now we 
have a light. 3 ' 

Then we be to quet the laughin' an' pushm' on the 

An* think on One who called us to come and be 

Himself 'ud put his pipe down, an' say the good word 


"May the Lamb o God lead us all to the Light o 

There' a wheen things that used to be an' now has had 

their day, 
The nine Glens of Antrim can show ye many a sight ; 

But not the quare wee house where we lived up Brabk* 


Nor a child in all the nine Glens that knows the 
grace for light. 

Moira O'Neill 


Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea. 
Low, low, breathe and blow, 

Wind of the western sea! 
Over the rolling waters go, 
Come from the dying moon and blow, 

Blow him again to me; 
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, 

Father will come to thee soon; 
Rest, rest, on mother's breast, 

Father will come to thee soon; 
Father will come to his babe in the nest, 
Silver sails all out of the west 

Under the silver moon: 
Sleep, my little one; sleep, my pretty one, sleep, 

Alfred Tennyson 


Wynken, BIynken, and Nod one night 

Sailed off in a wooden shoe 
Sailed on a river of crystal light, 

Into a sea of dew. 
" Where are you going, and what do you wish?" 

The old moon asked the three. 
"We have come to fish for the herring fish 
That live in this beautiful sea; 
Nets of silver and gold have we!" 
Said Wynken, 
And Nod. 

The old moon laughed and sang a song, 
As they rocked In the wooden shoe, 
And the wind that sped them all night long 

Ruffled the waves of dew. 
The little stars were the herring fish 

That lived in that beautiful sea 
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish 
Never afeard are we"; 
So cried the stars to the fishermen three: 
And Nod. 

All night long their nets they threw 

To the stars in the twinkling foam 
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, 

Bringing the fishermen home; 
Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed 

As if it could not be, 

And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed 
Of sailing that beautiful sea 
But I shall name you the fishermen three: 
And Nod. 

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, 

And Nod is a little head, 
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies 

Is a wee one's trundle-bed. 
So shut your eyes while mother sings 

Of wonderful sights that be, 
And you shall see the beautiful things 
As you rock in the misty sea, 
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: 
And Nod. 

Eugene Field 


O hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight, 
Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; 
The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see, 
They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee. 

O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, 
It calls but the warders that guard thy repose; 
Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, 
Ere the step of a foeman drew near to thy bed. 

O, hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come 
When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum; 
Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, 
For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day. 

Sir Walter Scott 

Index of Authors 

Allingham, William, 3, 16 

Belloc, Hilaire, 102 

Benet, Stephen Vincent-and Rosemary, 

64, 66 
Blake, William, 25, 27, 31, i, 116, 

Bourne, Vincent, no 

Carroll, Lewis, 81, 88, 92 
Carryl, Charles Edward, 71, 100 
Coatsworth, Elizabeth, 4 2 > 47> 62 
Conkling, Hilda, 41, in, 113 
Cowpcr, William, no 
De la Mare, Walter, 2, 11, 12, 53 

58, 63 
Dickinson, Emily, 107 

Farjeon, Eleanor, 5, 29, 49, 5 2 54 

61, 106 

Field, Eugene, 128 
Field, Rachel, 9, 26, 34 
Frost, Robert, 37 
Fyleman, Rose, 19 

Grahame, Kenneth, 104 

Herford, Oliver, 21 
Hogg, James, 36 
Hughes, Langston, 47 

Lear, Edward, 76, 78, 94 

Lindsay, Vachel, 13, 44 *3 
Longfellow, Henry Wadswortb, 109 

Merryman, Mildred Hew, 68 
Millay, Edna St. Vincent, 114 
Moore, Clement C, 121 

O'Neill, Moira, 126 
O'Sullivan, Seumas, 32 

Reese, Lizzettc Wood worth, 120 
Richards, Laura E., 8, 74, 80, S6 97 
Roberts, Elizabeth Madox, 48, 54. 

105, 108, 118 
Rossetti, Christina, 2, 10, 40, 46, 113 

Sandburg, Carl, 46 
Sayers, Frances Clark, 30 
Scott, Sir Waiter, 130 
Shakespeare, William, 23, 24 
Sitwell, Edith, 57 
Stephens, James, 33, 50 
Stevenson, Robert Louis, 45, 5 1 

Taylor, Jane, 115 
Tcasdalc, Sara, 43 
Tennyson, Alfred, 127 
Thompson, Frauds, 124 
Tolkkn, J. R. &, 35 

Unknown, i, 14, 3 2 > 3^, 56* &> 

Index of Tides 

A Bird Came down the Walk, 107 
A Boy's Song, 36 
A Christmas Folk-Song, 120 
A Dream, 112 
Alas, Alack, 2 
Legend of 

_ & , 

Antonio, 8 
A Piper, 32 
April Rain Song, 47 
A Swing Song, 3 

A Visit firewn St. Nicholas, i: 
Boats Sail on the Risers, 40 
Bunches of Grapes, 63 
Butterfly, 113 

no \jtfVrTftttfT T I 1^ 


Cinderella's Song, 54 
Coach, 54 
Counters, 62 


Dandelion, 41 

Down the Rain Falls, 47 

Ducks' Ditty, 104 

Escape at Bedtime, 45 
Ex Ore Infantiura, 124 

Ferry Me Across the Water, 10 

Firefly, 108 

Fog, '46 

For a Cock, 106 

Grace For Light, 126 
Gypsies, 34 

Hcigh-Ho, April!, 29 
Here We Come a-Piping, 32 
Hiawatha's Childhood, 109 

In Samarcand, 86 

I Saw a Ship a-Sailing, 60 

Laughing Song, 31 

Little Rain, 48 

Little Snail, in 

Lullaby, 127 

Lullaby of an Infant Chief, 130 

Miss T, ii 

Mix a Pancake, 2 

Mrs. Snipkin and Mrs. Wobblcchin, 80 

Over Hill, Over Dale, 23 
Over in the Meadow, 38 

Peregrine White and Virginia Dare, 64 
Piping down the Valleys Wild, 25 
Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee, 68 
Pretty Cow, 115 
Robinson Crusoe's Story, 71 

Sailor, 61 

Sing All Ye Joyful, 35 

Tartary, 58 
Taxis, 9 

The Buckle, 53 

The Cupboard, 12 

The Duck and the Kangaroo, 78 

The Echoing Green, 27 

The Elf and the Dormouse, 21 

The Elves' Dance, i 

The Fairies, 16 

The Fairy Queen, 14 

The Fairy Tailor, 19 

The Falling Star, 43 

The Fields Arc Spread, 42 

The Hens, 105 

The Horses of the Sea, 113 

The King of China's Daughter, 57 

The Lamb, 117 

The Little Cossack, 74 

The Mad Gardener's Song, 92 

The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky, 


The Mysterious Cat, 103 
The Night Will Never Stay, 49 
The Nut Tree, 56 
The Old Man's Toes, 5 
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat, 76 
The Pasture, 37 
The Piper, 26 

The Plaint of the Camel, 100 
The Quangle Wangle's Hat, 94 
The Rivals, 33 
The Shepherd, 116 
The Snail, no 

The Walrus and the Carpenter, 81 
The White Knight's Ballad, 88 
The Yak, 102 

Where the Bee Sucks, 24 

White Horses, 52 

Who Calls? 30 

Who Has Seen the Wind? 46 

Windy Nights, 51 

Wonder Where, 114 

Wynken, Blynkcn, and Nod, 128 

Index o First Lines 

A bird came down the walk, 107 

A little light is going by, 108 

All along the backwater, 104 

Ann, Ann!, 2. 

Antonio, Antonio, 8 

A piper in the street to-day, 32 

As a friend to the children commend me the Yak, 102 

Boats sail on the rivers, 40 

"Bunches of grapes," says Timothy, 63 

Butterfly, 113 

By the shores of Gitche Gumce, 109 

Canary-birds feed on sugar and seed, 100 

Come, follow, follow me, 14 

Count the white horses you meet on the way, 52 

Down the rain falls, 47 
Ferry me across the water, 10 

Heigh-ho!, 29 

Here we come a-piping, 32 

He thought he saw an Elephant, 92 

Ho, for taxis .green or blue, 9 

Ho, for the Pirate Don Durk of Dowdec!, 68 

How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot!, 116 

If Bethlehem were here today, 1 1 8 

If I were Lord of Tartary, 58 

I had a little nut tree, 56 

I had a silver buckle, 53 

I had a willow whistle, 26 

I heard a bird at dawn, 33 

I know a little cupboard, 12 

I'll tell thec everything I can, 88 

I'm going out to clean the pasmre spring, 37 

In silken, milken Samarcand, $6 

I saw a little snail, in 

I saw a proud, mysterious cat, 103 

I saw a ship a-sailing, 60 

I saw a star slide down the sky, 43 

It's a -very odd thing, n 

Last night the gypsies came, 34 

Let the rain kiss yoo, 47 

Listen, children, listen, won't you come iato the night? 30 

Little Lamb, who made thcc? 117 

Little Jesus, wast Tbcsi shy, 12.4 

Mix a pancake, 2. 

My sweet heart's a Sailor, 61 

Oh, little cat beside my stool, 54 

O hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a V*i%Ht, 130 


O little soldier with the golden helmet, 41 

Once a dream* did weave a shade, 112 

On the top of the Crumpetty Tree, 94 

Over hill, over dale, 23 

Over in the meadow, in the sand, in the sun, 38 

Peregrine White, 64 

Piping down the valleys wild, 25 

Round about, round about, i 

Said the Duck to the Kangaroo, 78 

Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together, 35 

Sitting on the flower-bed beneath the hollyhocks, 19 

Skinny Mrs. Snipkin, 80 

Strutting cock, with swelling chest, 106 

Sweet and low, sweet and low, 127 

Swing, swing, 3 

Thank you, pretty cow, that made, 115 

The fields arc spread like tablecloths, 42 

The fog comes, 46 

The Grasshopper, the grasshopper, 13 

The horses of the sea, 113 

The King of China's daughter, 57 

The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out, 45 

The little Jesus came to town, 120 
The Moon's the North Wind's cooky, 44 

The night was coming very fast, 105 

The Night was creeping on the ground!, 50 

The night was thick and hazy, 71 

The night will never stay, 49 

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea, 76 

There are lots of queer things that discoverers do, 66 

There once was a frog, 97 

There was a yellow pumpkin, 54 

The Sun does arise, 27 

The sun was shining on the sea, 81 

The talc of the little Cossack, 74 

To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall, no 

To think I once saw grocery shops, 62 

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, 121 

Under a toadstool, 21 

Up the airy mountain, 16 

Up the street, 5 

Whenever the moon and stars are set, 51 

When I was making myself a game, 48 

When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, 31 

When we were little childer we had a quare wee house, 126 

Where the bee sucks, there suck I, 24 

Where the pools are bright and deep, 36 

Who has seen the wind? 46 

Wonder where this horseshoe went, 114 

Wynkcn, Blynkcn, and Nod one night, 128